


Blocking

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre meremine, dyspraxic Jeremy Heere, stage dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 10:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18050606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jeremy needs some help preparing for his role in the school play.





	Blocking

Drama Club membership surges after the Squip incident. Rumors fly. Play rehearsal is the place to get free drugs, so they say, and the influx of druggies lured in by that particular bit of misinformation creates a self fulfilling prophecy. With all the new faces, Christine doesn't experience the same soul-stirring intimacy between herself and the stage, but it _does_ mean that she's finally got enough people to do Les Mis, so it's not all bad. It doesn't take a lot to make Christine happy— just a strong role with some meat to it. She's got that in Fantine! Besides, Jenna and Jeremy are doing the play too, so it's not like Christine will be left alone in a sea of intoxicated weirdos at the cast party. She’ll have her own weirdos to cling to.

Rehearsals are awesome! The coolest! Lots of singing! It's easy for Christine to memorize her lines, ‘cause her dads have been playing Les Mis for her since she was a toddler, and the only obstacle to overcome is her tendency to accidentally sing the real lyrics instead of the school edition ones. There's this line in Heather’s: the Musical where Veronica talks about how Martha has been her best friend since diapers. That's exactly how Christine feels about Les Miserables, and unlike Veronica, Christine would never abandon her best friend to be popular and go on a killing spree. She has morals, after all. 

Life is good! Dreams are coming true! Christine is in the show, and Jenna is in the show, and Jeremy is in the show. Christine even gets to play opposite Jenna briefly, because the old woman who cuts off Fantine’s hair is encompassed in Jenna’s chorus role. 

Jeremy has been cast as Marius. His character doesn't interact with Christine’s, but that's fine. Christine gets lots of time to kick back and listen to him sing. For a chronic stutterer whose voice cracks when he's excited, Jeremy is a shockingly good singer. It's one of his many hidden charms. 

So, it goes like this: 

First rehearsal is the best, ‘cause that's when everybody finds out about and gets to celebrate their super awesome roles. Christine kinda makes a a scene, jumping up and down and screaming, and almost feels stupid about it, surrounded as she is in a crowd of people who aren't as into this as she is, but then she looks over at Jeremy, and he's got this big smile on his face, that only gets bigger when she pounces, throws her arms around him, and kisses him because she's just so _happy_ and her happiness demands it. 

(It's a little embarrassing after, when Christine comes up for air, and people are hooting and clapping. She does out there things when she doesn't think. She does over the top things when she's excited. Jeremy may be her boyfriend, but she's hardly kissed him at all, and never like that before.)

Second rehearsal is the best again, ‘cause they all sit in a circle and run through the script and sing the songs. After Fantine dies, Christine mouths everybody else's lines under her breath, and just basks in the 80’s mega musical poetry of it all. Jeremy holds her hand, and Christine doesn't mind the sweat, for she has been transported back to the land of historical France where all that matters is revolution. 

Third rehearsal is also the best, ‘cause it's play rehearsal, and play rehearsal is always the best. It's three hours of knowing what the heck is going on in the world, rocking every moment of it, and being in command of a character and a personality that isn't Christine’s own, but feels like her own for a little while. 

Fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh rehearsal happen, each one offering new glories for Christine and her cohorts to discover and revel in. 

(At least Christine revels, while Jeremy revels in her reveling, and Jenna regales them both with hilarious backstories for her characters. Who knew that the third peasant woman in Turning was actually a renowned botanist with a tragic backstory to rival Eponine’s? Not Boublil, not Schönburg, and not Victor Hugo.)

The eighth rehearsal is where Jeremy flounders. They’re starting in with blocking, and whatever natural vocal talent Jeremy might have does not translate into fluidity of movement. He knows his lines. He can emote like a champ! He knows his character inside and out. What he does not know is where his character should be standing. _Ever_. 

At first, Mr. Reyes tells Jeremy where to go the same as he does everybody else. When that doesn't work, things escalate to Mr. Reyes standing where Jeremy should, to give him a visual of where he’s supposed to be on the stage. Then, Mr. Reyes is holding Jeremy by the shoulders moving him from place to place, while Jeremy gets stiffer and stiffer until it hurts to watch, and even after that, when Jeremy restarts the scene without his puppet master, he goes left where he should go right, and straight where he should go diagonal, and misses the chair he's supposed to sit on, and ends up on his butt on the floor. 

This is something Jeremy and Christine have talked about. He has a thing where his spacial awareness is “shit” (his word, not Christine’s). It works out for Christine, ‘cause she's got plenty of her own things that make life a more complicated, and having a non-neurotypical boy friend takes some of the fear out of the fact that Christine hasn't had a lot of adventures in having close companions of any sort, outside of fiction and her family. 

Nonetheless, Jeremy can usually figure out where chairs are and how to sit in them. Not being able to do that on a day to day basis would be a serious liability, and Christine finds herself hoping that he won't walk off the stage or something, because re-staging a Midsummer’s Nightmare after Jake broke both his legs had been tough, and it'd be better not to go through that again.

By the third run through of Jeremy’s first scene, some of the other actors are grumbling about wasted time, so Christine puts up her hand. 

“I’ll move with him until he gets it,” she offers, and Mr. Reyes agrees, though not without pointing out that he’ll have to get it before opening night. That's how Christine ends up looping arms with Jeremy and guiding him around the stage, and if she can't resist taking on some of Marius’ gestures and facial expressions as she does so, her excuse is that this is the closest she’ll ever come to playing the role, aside from trying to belt out all the parts of One Day More in the shower. At any rate, Christine _has_ to portray Marius’ emotional state, because Jeremy has gone dull in a way that he hardly ever does when she's touching him. 

“That was stupid,” Jeremy says, when rehearsal is over. “Sorry,” he adds, almost like it's an afterthought. Sometimes Jeremy apologizes because he knows he did something wrong, and is genuinely repentant. Other times he apologizes because something isn't quite right, and who knows? It could be him, and he wants to cover all his bases just in case. 

“I thought it was okay,” Christine says. “It was like a preemptive and overly literal interpretation of Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” 

“Wait, what?” Jeremy asks, but Christine just bumps shoulders with him. It earns her close-mouthed smile. When Jeremy smiles for real, it shows his teeth. 

The next day, Michael turns up to rehearsal with two slushies, a brown paper bag, and a red notebook. At first, Christine thinks he's probably going to give one of the slushies to Jeremy, then leave, since he's not in the play. Instead, after greeting Jeremy, Christine, and Jenna, Michael takes a seat in the third row of the audience, starts in on one of the slushies, and sets the other down by his feet. He opens up his notebook, and waits expectantly. 

“What's up?” Christine asks, which is polite person code for _’Hi Michael, I'm confused by your presence.’_

Michael takes a big slurp of his drink, then looks up at Christine, fiddling with his straw. “Not a ton. You?” 

“Well, personally, I'm here rehearsing for a play.” 

“Right on! The play! I'm here to watch it.” 

“It's not ready.” 

“I was thinking that might be even better. Like, rawer and more authentic, without all that practicing or whatever. Spontaneous. Like sports, but not boring. I'm pumped.” 

“It's against the rules,” Christine says, glancing behind her to see if Mr. Reyes is going to put a stop to this, but he's standing near the back of the stage, deep in conversation with Jeremy. 

“It's all good.” Michael brandishes his brown paper bag. “I brought an offering, if it comes down to it. Hopefully it won't, and I'll get to eat these myself, but never let it be said that I don't come prepared. Smell.” 

Christine leans in to sniff the bag. The familiar aroma of hot pockets wafts out. 

“Whoah. Somebody’s determined.” 

“Jeremy says you’re amazing at playing Fantine.” 

Christine looks down, smoothing her skirt. “It's a killer role,” she says. “I get, like, this super drawn out death scene. Lots of characters do, seeing as how this is Les Mis and all, but mine’s first. I died as Juliet too, but I've grown a lot as an actress since then. I watched all these death videos on YouTube. I'm going for gritty and poignantly realistic.” 

“Epic win. Can't wait to see you die.” 

“Thanks Michael. That means a lot. Actually, last rehearsal Mr. Reyes thought I was maybe going too far with the whole death thing, but I disagree. He wants something more delicate, which I could do, but I don't want to. It's just that women and girls aren't given enough space to not be pretty, and I get the sense that a diseased sex worker who sold her hair and teeth isn’t gonna go out with a swan song, y’know? So I'd love to know what you think as an audience member. Tell me if I'm being too extra.” 

“Will do,” Michael agrees. “I'll take notes.” 

That seems good. That seems natural. Mr. Reyes is calling for rehearsal to begin, and Christine doesn't think to ask why Michael brought a notebook to rehearsal. She takes her place on stage with the other actors. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the stage,” Mr. Reyes begins, with a flourish made only a little less dramatic by the crumbs lodged in his beard. “This afternoon, the role of Marius Pontmercy will be played by Christine Canigula, at his actor’s request. Now, everybody assume your places, and wait patiently for rehearsal to begin. I need a hot pocket break.” 

The moment Mr. Reyes prances off stage, the cast un-assumes their places, which most of them had already found. So far, fifteen minutes have passed since they were supposed to start. Things go like that sometimes. Christine has bigger issues to worry about. 

“What gives?” she asks Jeremy. 

“I didn't think he'd make such a big deal of that,” he says. 

“But it's a huge deal! Why am I playing your role?” 

“I was hoping if he didn't say anything, nobody would notice.” 

Christine gestures to her own face incredulously. Then, just in case Jeremy didn't catch that, she's gestures to him. There are _many_ readily noticeable differences between them, ranging from height, to gender, to ethnicity. 

“Are you mad?” Jeremy asks. “I wanted to… um. I. I…uh…” he tugs at his cardigan, then lets go, like the fabric is burning him. He points to the stage. “The blocking,” he says. “I think I could get it if I could watch you do it one time, and I didn't think you’d mind being Marius? Or anybody, for that matter. You could do this show from start to finish in your sleep, and I think I'll understand it if you do it.”

Christine softens. “Of course I don't mind playing Marius,” she says. “I was just caught off guard. I don't know what I thought you were doing. Like, maybe you were quitting and giving me your role. I _like_ having you in the show with me.” 

“I’m not quitting the show.” 

“Good.” Christine leans in, and kisses Jeremy on the nose. His turns about five colors in three seconds, most of them variations of red. In the audience, Michael gives Jeremy two thumbs up, and gets the middle finger in return. Jeremy gives Christine a peck on the lips, and then Mr. Reyes us back, and rehearsal begins in earnest. 

Christine always throws herself into her roles. Acting is, after all, her life. It's heightened today. While she's playing Fantine, she thinks of Michael watching, and everything is intensified. She wants to impress him, which is kinda weird, but Michael is amazing. Sometimes she thinks she loves him a little, which is bizarre, considering Christine was just kissing Jeremy, the boy who she is meant to love most of all. 

While Christine is playing Marius, it's all about the girl playing Cosette, somebody called Marissa, who Christine has never thought about much before, but suddenly she's just so into her? Weird. Again. Wasn't she just thinking about Michael? And Jeremy? Even so, Marissa is nice to touch and kiss and pretend to be in love with, and Christine's dads have always made it clear that she could be gay, straight, bisexual, or anything, and still be wonderful. It's just that some days Christine feels one way, and sometimes she feels another, and other times she feels things that just aren't covered in the books and pamphlets her dads gave her in fifth grade to prepare her for the transition from child to greasy, conflicted adolescent. 

At least Christine’s always got the theatre to keep her grounded. At least today she's Fantine, who dies upon the ashes of shattered dreams, and also Marius, who survives to have his own dreams fulfilled, but at cost. What else could possibly matter? 

People always talk about how a good full body work out releases endorphins, even as it makes you achy and tired. That's the sensation Christine's got, as rehearsal ends. It's like she's lived three lifetimes in the space of an hour. She's exhausted and wired at the same time. 

“You died good,” Michael is quick to inform her. “I liked the uneven breathing, like—” Michael puts his hand over his chest and demonstrates, giving a pretty effective performance for somebody who has never acted. Both his slushies are gone by now, and the hot pocket too. Luckily, Mr. Reyes wasn't bothered enough to kick Michael out. His notebook appears to have some kind of map in it. 

Jeremy makes his way over, from where he's been watching, off on the side of the stage. Immediately, Michael's got an arm around his shoulder. 

“You feeling better about your blocking?” Christine asks. 

“Better about everything. I liked that thing you did, when you leaned into Cosette, then kinda fanned yourself as you backed away? Not a blocking thing, but I might try it. It made Marius seem like… like a person. It was cute.” 

“I got that from you,” Christine says, which is greeted with only confusion from Jeremy. “You’re adorably flustered all the time. Marius is the same. I bet Cosette finds it hot.” 

(Christine does not mention that she found Cosette more than a little hot. Now is not the time.)

“Cosette likes making Marius squirm,” Michael agrees. It gives Christine an out. She leans in to Jeremy. 

“Squirm, Marius,” she whispers, like she's now playing Cosette, but sexy, and it’s an order. Jeremy obeys, as Michael holds him a little tighter. It's a _moment_. 

(And maybe Christine shouldn't induce moments like this? Maybe she's getting carried away? It's like, a verfiable fact, that sometimes she takes things too far, even for herself.)

“You want a ride home?” Christine asks. 

“I’m going with Michael.” 

“Okay.” She starts to pack up her stuff, than pauses. “Maybe I could text my dads, and go with you and Michael. We could grab pizza.” 

“Homework,” Michael says quickly. 

“Oh.” Christine shoulders her backpack. “If it's for bio, maybe we could…” 

“It's the… uh… uh-ther… other! Science! We’re doing the other science tonight,” says Jeremy. 

“Ok,” Christine agrees. “See you two tomorrow.” 

That should've been the end of it, and it would’ve been, only halfway through the drive home, Christine finds that the air conditioner in her dads’ car is making her shiver, and quickly realizes that this is happening because she left her favorite cardigan in the auditorium. If she and her dads hurry they can get back to the school before the doors lock, so they make haste to turn around and drive back. The moment the car stops, Christine races across the school parking lot, and back inside. She flings open the auditorium doors, and then just stands there. 

Michael is on stage with Jeremy, hands on his shoulders, leading him through his blocking for the first scene. Jeremy freezes, and Michael freezes. It's like they've been caught in the middle of a crime. It's like they've been caught in the midst of making out. 

“Hey.” Christine shifts from one foot to the other. Michael is the first to wave back, keeping one hand in Jeremy as he does so. 

“Is this what the notebook was for?” Christine asks, taking a few more steps into the auditorium. 

Jeremy nods. He swallows. “You know I suck at directions, and probably everything else, so…”

“I'm okay at them,” Michael finishes. “I suck at a lot of things, but directions aren't one of my issues.” 

“I suck at things too,” Christine says. It's dawning on her that Michael has given up his entire afternoon and evening to help Jeremy with a play that Michael isn't even a part of, and Christine's heart is swelling, and she wants in on that dynamic. “It's okay to suck at things. I suck at math.” 

Jeremy offers her a shaky smile. Christine is all the way into the room now. She picks her cardigan up off the chair, and holds it to her. 

“You two can keep going,” Christine says, not moving. Michael and Jeremy exchange glances, then Michael goes back to guiding Jeremy through his first scene. They practice the first five minutes twelve times, then add two minutes of motions, and a dozen more practices. It's a slow process. It's painstaking. Christine can't take her eyes off of it. Michael is meticulous. He's involved. He's patient. He's here, helping Jeremy through this thing that has nothing to do with him. Would he do something like that for Christine? There's a fantasy brewing, where she calls Michael for help in an emergency, like maybe dragons or lost homework or something, and he comes running. Then maybe, just maybe, he could have an emergency of his own, and Christine could fix it, and from that moment on they'd both have somebody they could turn to with _anything_ at any time. Wouldn't that be cool?

Michael and Jeremy practice the first seven minutes of Jeremy’s scene. If Michael is bored or annoyed, he isn't showing it. From what Christine knows, Michael is the first person Jeremy asks for whenever he falters. Two months ago, he got his wisdom teeth out, and Michael was the one who took him to and from the dentist. It'd hurt Mr. Heere’s feelings. He went pantsless for over a day, because if he was useless to his son when he was trying his best, why try at all? Christine knew this, because she'd come over to check on Jeremy, and ended up seeing a grown man in his underwear for the first time in her life, much to the chagrin of everybody involved. 

Several repetitions later, and Jeremy and Michael have fifteen minutes of stage time under control. Maybe Christine should be in Michael's place. Christine's Squip once warned her that was something she would have to do with Jeremy. Jeremy wanted her to lead, Christine’s Squip had told her, as if it wasn't turning Christine into a puppet. Jeremy pretended to want to be 'player one', but he'd never be able to hack it, without somebody telling him what to do. _’Love Jeremy Heere,’_ Christine's Squip had said. _’Obey me for now, and when the time comes, you can make of Jeremy whatever you want.’_

Michael's got Jeremy twenty minutes into his role now. That's a significant chunk of Marius time! 

Christine read this quote on tumblr, about not setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. She doesn't know who it's attributed to, but she's sure Michael hasn't read it. If he has, he doesn't agree with it. He'd do anything for Jeremy. 

“Let’s stop here,” Jeremy says. “Finish up tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Michael agrees. 

So, Michael links arms with Jeremy at the elbow. They get off the stage, and Christine joins at Jeremy’s other elbow. They leave like what they've got going on is a triumvirate and not just a duo. If Christine pushes the idea, or at least brings it up, maybe she can get things going that way for real.


End file.
